Love, Or Something Like It
by Allybee
Summary: A long, boring summer awaits both Ron and Hermione, but when she invites him to stay at her house, neither of them know that their relationship might change forever... written preHBP
1. Summer, Alone

**Chapter 1- Summer, Alone**

Ron gazed dismally across his bedroom, gloomily contemplating the wide expanse of boredom that was the remainder of his holiday. So far, his summer had been completely tedious. He had returned home to a very miserable household. His parents had been in two minds over whether it was a good idea to let Harry come to the Burrow at all that summer, and at the present time it was looking unlikely. Letters from Harry and Hermione were short, vague and full of blatantly false cheeriness. It was too dangerous to put too much detail into letters, but he had a feeling that they were no happier than he was. Especially Harry… he had a lot to deal with.

Hermione would be proud of him, though- he had done almost all of his homework, which perhaps showed just how bored he really was. He didn't even have any of his siblings to talk to- Ginny had gone to visit one of her school friends for a few weeks. His parents were too wrapped up in business for the Order to pay any more than cursory attention to him. He may as well not exist… and he still had over a month to go.

"So… are there many cute guys?" Chastity asked, with a flick of her hair and a snap of her chewing gum.

"Some, I guess," Hermione replied vaguely, shrugging her shoulders. She hated the summer holidays with a passion. Sure, compared to Harry she couldn't really complain, but given the choice between her present situation and swallowing an entire cauldron of Polyjuice Potion she would always choose the potion as the less painful option.

Her mother, in that delightfully naïve way that most parents of teenagers have, decided that, instead of moping around on her own for the entire holidays, perhaps she would like to see some of her old friends from the neighbourhood again? After all, they'd "all been the best of friends at primary school". Hermione didn't have the heart to correct her- she had only made friends with those girls because the other option was eating lunch alone for her entire school career. They had been perfectly friendly towards her, possibly because she was their ticket to perfect grades, but she had found them highly immature and irritating, and her friendship towards them had been build on necessity only. She hadn't argued with her parents though, and that was how she had come to be sitting in a neon pink bedroom on that sunny July morning, talking about boys with Chastity Thorpe.

Chastity's name was somewhat ironic- her two main preoccupations were boys and how to get them. She was Hermione's opposite in every way- her clothes were bright, her voice was loud and her IQ was low. She had bleach blonde hair, which she straightened to within an inch of its life, long fingernails which shone a radiant shade of orange and a different boyfriend for every day of the week. She irritated Hermione immensely with her constant gum popping and obsessive boy-related behavior.

"I always thought the guys at your school would be _total_ nerdy-types," Chas whined in her high-pitched, nasal tone. Hermione raised her eyebrows. Nerdy? Chastity was ridiculously shallow- probably why she was one of the most popular girls in the neighbourhood. Anyone with half a brain was instantly under suspicion as a nerd, meaning that anyone who went to Hermione's supposed school, St Stephan's School for the Gifted, would almost certainly be classified as a first grade geek.

"Anyway, you _have _to come meet all the guys tomorrow," Chas continued to drone. "Things have changed so much since we last really spoke, Mi."

Mi. Possibly the one thing that irritated Hermione most about her "friends". She wanted to scream, "My name is _Hermione_! Her-mi-o-ne!" every time they said, "Oh, hey Mi!" or "See you later, Mi!" She _hated_ that nickname.

"The twins'll be here at four, and Fliss is coming a little later. We can do our hair and make up and get all dolled up! It'll be so much _fun_!"

Hermione highly doubted this. She didn't think that she could deal with all four of her "friends" at once. The twins, Elizabeth and Victoria Ingram, or Liz and Vicki, were the second set of red haired twins that she knew, and there was no contest over whom she preferred. Fred and George may have been a bit immature and irresponsible at times, but they never meant any real harm and they were nice guys when it came down to it. Liz and Vicki, on the other hand, were bitchiness incarnated. Their pastimes included pointing, giggling smugly, and wearing twin looks of pure superiority. Hermione could practically feel them judging her when she spoke to them. It was fairly obvious that they had only ever been friends with her for two reasons- her association with Chas and Fliss and her ability to help them with their homework. There were very few people whom the twins respected, and she wasn't one of them. Chastity had won their admiration, largely because of her clique of large, aggressive boyfriends who had no qualms about beating the living daylights out of anyone who "messed with their bird". They also held some respect for Felicity Dawood, whose giant ego was surpassed in size only by her designer wardrobe.

Unlike the other three girls, who all attended the local comprehensive and gained average to abysmal marks, Fliss's presence graced the halls of Northcliffe School for Girls, and despite her regularly poor test scores she always seemed to have straight As on her report card. This was probably absolutely nothing to do with her father's substantial donations to the school.

Hermione and Fliss had known each other since the age of five, when they had attended ballet lessons together, and they had actually been quite good friends until Hermione's departure to "St Stephan's". Time had turned Fliss into a vain, if fairly harmless, snob, who was totally dependant on daddy's credit card. Hermione wasn't too enamored with the adolescent version of her childhood friend, but she was most fond of her out of the whole group, mainly because she refused to address her as "Mi".

Chas was still droning on, but Hermione had stopped listening and was resigning herself to her fate- she wasn't going to make it out of the holidays alive.

"There's a letter for you on the kitchen table," his mother greeted him as he passed her on the stairs. "Looks like Hermione's handwriting. And will you _please _comb your hair?"

Ron walked into the kitchen and picked up the letter, flattening his hair with his hand. He peeled it open and read:

Dear Ron,

Would you like to come to stay at my house for a couple of weeks? If so, come at about five o clock on Friday- the address is at the bottom. I'm sure you'll be able to find your way there- send me a letter if you can't and we'll come collect you.

Write back as soon as you have an answer-

Love Hermione

P.S- Hope to see you soon… I'm bored speechless!

Ron's heart did a little dance. Spend a few weeks alone at Hermione's? _With Hermione_? _Alone_? He told himself to stop being stupid- it was only Hermione after all. He had to stop thinking about her in that way. It had been made pretty clear to him on several occasions that Hermione didn't like him in that way- and he didn't like her like that either, of course. It was just his mind having a laugh at his expense.

He went to find his mother, who agreed that getting out of the house would do him "a world of good." He walked back to the kitchen with a smile on his face and wrote a reply-

Hey Hermione!

My mum says I can come! I'll be there at the right time- Flooing in won't freak your parents out, right?

Looking forward to seeing you soon,

Ron paused. What should he sign as? Should he put "love"? "Yours sincerely"? Or a simple, "Ron"? He checked to see what Hermione had written- love. Not in that way, idiot! his brain yelled at his heart. Just as a friend. In the same way you love her, remember? Still, maybe it was best just to put

From Ron

He surveyed the letter quickly, before folding it up and addressing it. He tied it to Pig's leg, with some difficulty, before watching it fly off into the cloudless blue sky.

Hermione sat at her desk, cup of tea next to her and her quill hovering over her History of Magic essay. She had managed to get out of another afternoon with the "girls" by claiming homework. She had met up with the "boys" the night before, having been dolled up to within an inch of her life by Chas, Fliss and their giant makeup bags. She had to say she was unimpressed. Nine guys, nine names and the same vacant, blank expression on all of their "tough, manly" faces. The exception was Jake, the tenth guy who was, thankfully, far less bland. He was fairly attractive, with a tall, slim body and a head of mad dark curls, and he was very nice to her. That didn't stop him from being insensitive, though- he had no manners, and he was pretty nasty towards Chas. She suspected he was only nice to her because she didn't know him very well. He wasn't a patch on Ron…

Hermione felt herself blush. She didn't want to go down that road again. Ron didn't feel that way about her, and he never would. When he looked into her eyes, he didn't see her soul. All he saw were eyes. When they passed in the hall, she was sure her smile didn't turn his stomach to jelly as his did to her. All he saw was Hermione, grinning like an idiot. He didn't love her. And she didn't love him, either. She would stop being such a fool and she would move on.

Pig gave a hoot from the windowsill, causing Hermione's quill to skirt across the page. She walked over, took the reply from Pig's leg, tore it open and read it, before sitting down, a wide smile plastered across her face. A fortnight, just her and Ron. Alone.


	2. Warm Welcome

Chapter 2- Warm Welcome

Ron!" Hermione cried out, as Ron dropped his trunk awkwardly beside his feet. She ran forward to hug him, but froze about a foot away, as though distracted by a noise in the distance. There was a few seconds silence, as Ron strained to see what Hermione had heard, before she finally spoke. "So, how are you? Let me help you with that." She grabbed one end of his heavy trunk and helped him to drag it upstairs.

"I have been so bored! Finally, some half-decent company. Mum and Dad are making dinner at the moment- it should be ready in 15 minutes or so. You do like chicken, don't you?" She continued along this vein for the entire journey to the spare room. Ron simply gazed around, taking in the elegant wallpaper and luscious carpet. Everything was so tidy and in order! In the Burrow, clutter spread around the entire house like a plague, but here every surface was not only visible, but also spotless and totally devoid of junk. Even the fireplace was tidy- it was ash-free, unlike at his house where people often Flooed in looking as though it had been raining black soot outside.

He could hear noise coming from downstairs- probably the tevelision. His father had instructed him to report back on exactly what Muggle life was like, at one point even suggesting a journal. Well, there was one thing that he could add (if he hadn't shunned the journal idea so mercilessly)- these particular Muggles were sticklers for tidiness.

"This'll be your room!" Hermione said, dropping her end of the trunk with a loud clunk beside the bed. "Sorry about the flowers," she added, gesturing to the pink, floral print wallpaper. "Normally the only guest we have is my grandmother."

"It's okay," Ron said, smiling politely around the room before looking back at Hermione. She looked so nervous, fidgeting with her hair and adjusting the bedspread. He watched her for a few seconds before she noticed him and gave him the smile that made his heart glow and a tingle run up his spine. He mentally kicked himself- he had to stop thinking like this. What had he done to deserve this? Had he offended some higher being so seriously that they decided to ruin his life by twisting it so that he couldn't even look one of his best friends in the eye without feeling that feeling? He didn't even really know what that feeling was. Was it love? Or some other, equally absurd feeling not too dissimilar but definitely not love? Possibly insanity?

"Ron?" Hermione called.

"Oh, sorry! Erm... what?" Ron stuttered, his entire face glowing brilliant scarlet.

"Do you want to go downstairs?" Hermione smiled.

"Sure, sure!" Ron grinned, over-compensating madly. "Let's go!" He walked out into the hall, turned left and began to walk, before freezing. There were no stairs.

"This way," Hermione said, taking his hand and pulling him in the right direction. Ron just about seized up. Hermione. Was holding. His hand. Keep breathing. It meant nothing. Nothing. Why was he acting like such a nutcase!

"That was delicious, Mrs Granger," Ron said politely, sitting down his knife and fork.

"Please," Mrs Granger smiled, "call me Ramona."

"Okay, M... Ramona," Ron smiled in return, doing his best socially polite act that his mother had drilled into him from a young age. He was amazed at how quiet the Granger household was- only one conversation ever ran at a time! Overall the meal had been successful- he had kept up the conversation for the entire meal without instilling fear into the hearts of Hermione's parents or receiving any disapproving glares from their daughter. This was a good start. Only two weeks to go...

A sudden ringing made Ron jump several inches from his seat. Ramona went through to the kitchen and the ringing noise stopped. She began to speak to someone, before returning a few seconds later. "It's Chastity for you," she said to Hermione. Ron finally twigged- it was the tele-phone. He had had an unfortunate experience with them in the past- stupid Muggle invention.

"I really can't," Hermione said, her voice full of fake sorrow. "A friend of mine has just arrived from Ho- St Stephan's, and it wouldn't be nice to leave him on his own, especially as it's his first night."

"Hmmm..." Chas said, and Hermione could tell that she was fake thinking. "I know! Why don't we come over? Just the girls, I mean? It'll be so much fun!"

"No!" Hermione yelled, before adding in a slightly calmer voice, "he's not feeling too good- I think he should just rest."

"Oh, we'd be no bother, really," Chas continued. "We'd be quiet and we wouldn't stay long. Please?"

"I really don-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer!" Chas insisted. "We'll see you in half an hour! Okay, bye!" She slammed the phone down before Hermione could protest.

Hermione sat the phone back in its cradle. Damn. She had a lot of lying to do. How on earth was she going to pass off Ron as an unwell, non-magical genius? He wasn't a great liar at the best of times, and she only had half an hour to get her story straight. Well, she reasoned, about an hour in practice. There was no way that Chas would even consider meeting a guy for the first time, even a potential geek, without looking her best, and her toilette took a long time. Still... she was going to need a miracle.

"... and just let me do all the talking," Hermione finished with a final flourish. No fear there, Ron thought. That's pretty much what's been happening for the past forty five minutes.

"Okay, let's give this a go," Hermione nodded, her forehead creasing with a worried frown, which Ron found adorable in spite of himself. Stop it, he thought. Focus.

"Hi! I'm Ron, I go to St Stephan's School for the Gifted near London. I like reading and playing the... the..."

"Vi...ol..." Hermione prompted.

"Viola!" Ron finished. "I don't like sports or TV, and I have a headache."

"Excellent!" Hermione smiled. Ron's heart did another little flutter. "Just be careful. Think before you speak, and if they ask you a question you don't know the answer to, don't guess! Just have a sudden flash of pain in your head."

"Relax," Ron said, laughing at Hermione's fretfulness. "It'll be fine. I promise I won't embarrass you." He looked her straight in the eyes. "I promise."  
There was total silence as they stared into one another's eyes, and in those few seconds Ron seriously considered reaching forward those few inches and kissing her. Unfortunately the moment was broken by the distant ringing of the doorbell. Hermione bounced up.

"I'll get it!" she yelled, shooting out of the room and down the stairs. Ron muttered a stream of curses under his breath. "Bugger off!" he wanted to yell. "I'm finally getting to the point where I might just understand if Hermione feels the same way! Come back later!" He could hear Hermione hurtling up the stairs again. She shot around the door. "They're coming," she panted. "Just remember..."

"Yes, yes," Ron muttered grumpily. Bloody moment-ruining girls.

Hermione's guests began to appear. First to enter was a slim blonde in a very short skirt, high heeled boot and way too much make up. She eyed Ron with the look of a hungry tiger before sitting down directly opposite him, next to Hermione, and considering him in silence for several seconds. Next to enter were two girls, evidently twins, with blonde-red hair and linked arms, who paid virtually no attention to him except a split second look in his direction. They walked across the room and sat next to the window, communicating silently between themselves with tiny flickers of their eyes and smug grins. Last, but by no means least was a tall, dark haired girl, who swept in with the regal air of a queen looking down on her peasants. She surveyed the company with a look of delicate, stately disdain, before sitting on the other side of Hermione.

There was silence, before Hermione finally said, "Guys, this is Ron. Ron, this is Liz, Vicki, Fliss and Chas."

Ron smiled nervously. "Hi."

Hermione stared at the ceiling, a feeling of total contentment rushing over her. Ron had been perfect. Magnificent. He had been polite but not too formal, charming but not flirty, willing to chat about himself but vague enough that no-one suspected anything that there was anything unusual about him. He had even won Fliss over, and Fliss was difficult to convince. The twins (naturally) hated him, but the twins hated everyone, so Hermione was hardly surprised. She loved Ron, so polite and charming...

A nagging thought came back to her. What had happened before her friends had arrived? The eye-gazing, tension filled silence where it felt as though something big was on the verge of happening... She was probably just imagining it, but there had been something about those few seconds that definitely wasn't normal. Of course, there had been no romantic tension on Ron's part. He didn't like her in that way. She had been through this before, time and time again. It was just her mind inventing things that weren't really there. A non-existent response to her otherwise unrequited love. And it wasn't like it was real love, anyway. If it was real love she'd have had the guts to actually do something about it (besides from worrying). But no, she'd kept her feelings well and truly to herself. She hadn't even written about them in her diary. Lavender and Parvati knew enough charms to break in- as far as they were concerned, that was the highlight of having magical powers, and they had grown skilled in it over the years. She wasn't foolish enough to risk him finding out. She'd probably grow out of it, anyway- it was only a phase.

She rolled over and closed her eyes, determined to get some sleep. But the only thought that filled her mind was what might have happened if she had taken the chance and kissed him.


	3. Facing the Facts

Chapter 3- Facing The Facts

Hermione tapped on the door before opening it slowly. Ron squinted at her from his position, half-hidden underneath the duvet, before groaning and rolling over.

"Rise and shine, lazybones!" she yelled in a far too loud of a voice, before ripping open the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, blinding Ron, who gave another, louder groan and pulled the duvet further over his head. What time'd she call this?

"Come on," Hermione urged, bustling around the room. "We've got things to do! It's already half past seven!"

"Wha?" Ron mumbled, still half asleep. "It's only seven thirty... gobacktosleep..."

"Get UP, Ronald," Hermione said firmly, yanking the duvet out of his grasp. "We've got places to go! People to see!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" Ron moaned, sitting upright and glancing around the room for his slippers. "What do we have to do, anyway?"

"We're meeting the girls in the park at ten, and then at one we're meeting some guys to go and see a film. Before that we've got to have breakfast, get ready and post a package for my mum. Oh, and I have to vacuum the living room..."

Vacuum? Film? What? Ron thought, as he located his slippers and pulled them on. And more friends to meet? He wasn't going to get a moment alone with her, was he?

Ron went to bed that night in a _very_ bad mood. The day hadn't gone well. It had started off on the right foot- he had helped Hermione to vacuum the living room, and he now knew how to work a Hoover. They had also had a most enjoyable trip to the post office, and he had brought some stamps for his father, as a souvenir. There had been a minor incident at the park, when he had revealed his ignorance about Muggle sports (he knew he should have listened to Dean's lectures on football), but it wasn't until they met up with the boys that things went really downhill. He had been monumentally unimpressed with the film- its depictions of werewolves were laughable, and it all looked so fake- but the Muggles had lapped it up, squealing in horror the whole way through. They had gone out for something to eat afterwards, and Chastity, the blonde one, had introduced him to "the guys". They hadn't been overly impressed with him, and he had to say the feeling was mutual. There was one in particular, Jake, who irritated Ron the most- he was constantly chatting up Hermione, and he kept calling Ron "mate". He wouldn't have been mates with that smug idiot if they had paid him...

He had been forced to spend almost two hours watching that wanker flirt with his Hermione, and she didn't even try to stop him! That guy wasn't good enough for her, he thought with a scowl. He was impolite, loud and he talked to her like she was an idiot. And they called her "Mi". Mi! If he called her that, he'd be lucky to get away with both legs intact, but when lover-boy did it she didn't say a word!

It was just his luck. He finally reached the point where he almost believed that there was a possibility- slim, but still there- that Hermione might like him as well, and some idiot with designer jeans and a stupid haircut swept her out from under him! This was worryingly similar to the whole Vicky debacle. But at least there he could _almost see_ the attraction. Yes, he was a grumpy, glowering, bad tempered foreign wanker, but he was also an international superstar. Jake- pure wanker. It just wasn't fair.

The next few days passed without much incidence. Sometimes they met up with Hermione's friends for trips to various points of interest. Chastity, who had taken up the position as official Ron entertainer had spent an entire afternoon trying to explain football, whilst Ron spent it making up elaborate excuses as to why he had never heard of it before. On other days he and Hermione simply hung out, chatting, messing around and occasionally having bizarre moments of frission, which were invariably broken by some distraction before Ron could make a move. Hermione spent a great deal of her time moaning about her "friends," their irritating shallowness and how she wished they'd stop trying to engage her in social activity. Ron listened sympathetically from the sidelines. He had to admit that he'd found it hard to swallow at first. It didn't fit in his mind that Hermione could possibly have ever considered these girls as actual friends, let alone her _closest_ friends. She just didn't fit in their world of giggling and make up and self-obsession. She was too complex, too deep. She had too much intelligence to sit around and obsess over boys like Jake.

He had attempted to broach the subject of Jake with Hermione at one point, but she had been frustratingly oblique and vague, simply muttering something about how he was a nice enough guy. Ron noticed that she avoided his eye whilst saying this, a sure sign that she was too embarrassed to tell him how much she really liked Jake. This angered him immensely, for reasons that he obviously couldn't express to Hermione. He had at last given up all pretence that his feelings were just a phase, and had committed himself to the unfortunate truth- he was hopelessly in love with his best friend and there was nothing that he or anyone else could do to stop it.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Fliss squealed down the phone. Hermione sighed.

"Hi, Fliss. What's up?"

"You are never going to guess what has happened!"

"What?"

"Guess."

"You've got a new pair of shoes?" Hermione said.

"No. Well, yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. Guess again!"

"Fliss, is there any chance that I'm _ever_ going to guess this?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. There was a loud clunk in the background at Felicity's end. Hermione could tell exactly where Fliss was- on the third step of the stairs, with her legs sprawled out across the step, totally blocking their maid Roberta's path and causing her to drop whatever she was carrying. "Fliss, move."

"Uh! Okay!" Fliss said. Hermione could hear her walking up the stairs, and she knew she hadn't stopped to help Roberta. "Anyway, you'll never guess what I found out!"

"Well, then just tell me!" Hermione said irritably. She was getting really fed up of always having to guess. She wished that Fliss were as straightforward as Chas- no guessing involved, just a lot of excited shrieking.

"Calm down, Mi, I'm just getting to it. Okay, so you know Stuart, right?"

"Yes..." Hermione sighed. Stuart was Fliss's boyfriend, whom she talked about whenever the conversation lulled for any longer than three seconds.

"Well, he was speaking to Jake, and apparently Jake told Stuart to tell me to tell you that he thinks you're cute!"

"And...?"

"That's it! Isn't that great!" Fliss squealed. "Apparently he thinks you look really quirky, and he thinks you're _different_ from other girls. In a good way, of course. So, do you want me to tell Stuart to tell him that you like him too?"

"No," Hermione said. She didn't really care that much for Jake. Sure, he had been nice to Ron, and he hadn't actually done anything to make her dislike him, but she found him... irritating. Besides, there was only one boy whose opinion she cared about...

"Look, Fliss, I'm kind of busy at the moment, so I'll speak to you later, okay?"

"Sure, whatever," Fliss said. She sounded slightly dejected and Hermione knew that she was upset that Hermione hadn't been more thrilled by her news. Fliss had always fancied herself as a matchmaker. "Bye."

"Bye!" Hermione said, before laying the phone down. She returned to the living room, where Ron was rewriting his Potions essay.

"What was that all about?" he asked, as he scratched out what appeared to be a large chunk of his essay.

Hermione smiled. "Nothing important..."


	4. Perfect Little Lie

Chapter 4- Perfect Little Lie

Hermione woke up bright and early on Friday morning to the sight of Hedwig sitting on her windowsill. She took Harry's letter from her and unfurled it. He didn't give too much detail, but from what she could pick out things were as good as could be expected. He had pretty much been under house arrest for the past month, which had left him with a lot of time to brood.

Hermione worried about him- he had dealt with far more in his first fifteen years than most people should have to in a lifetime. She wanted to help him, to see how he was coping with Sirius, but restrictions meant that all she could do was send and equally vague reply. She felt so guilty that she couldn't do more- he couldn't even come to visit because it was just too much of a risk.

She woke Ron up and passed on Harry's news. She loved getting him up in the mornings- he looked so vulnerable and cute when he was curled up underneath the duvet. She despaired at her own thoughts- she was being hopelessly girly, and if anyone else had expressed these thoughts to her she would have laughed in their face. Love was turning her mind to gunge!

Despite her best efforts both she and Ron had been invited to Fliss's birthday party, and not showing up wasn't an option. She hated parties- they were invariably filled with childish games and immature behaviour. She would have been far more content to stay at home with Ron for a chat. She loved chatting with him, not only because of what he had to say, but also because of how he looked when he said it- the way he tilted his head to one side whenever he asked a question, the way he clicked his tongue when he couldn't think of a word, his "I know! Tell me about it!" face. She could tell him anything.

Well, almost anything. There _had_ been one awkward moment when he had asked he what she thought of Jake. She hadn't known what to say- should she insult him completely, so Ron knew she definately didn't like him, or would that be too transparent? In the end she had gone for the middle road, said in what she hoped was a fairly carefree tone. She couldn't look him in the eye when she said it, though- she didn't trust herself not to show that she was lying.

Breakfast didn't go too well. She had started writing a reply to Harry whilst making toast, and by the time that she had remembered it had turned char-black. They had cereal instead, and a lively debate arose over the merits of Cheerios versus Cornflakes. They had then taken a walk to the shops to get some groceries, and had returned home with a stack of extra junk that Ron had insisted on buying. He had spent the remainder of his morning working his way through a cacophony of junk food, whilst she watched disapprovingly.

Needless to say, he hadn't wanted any lunch. She had pretended to be angry with him, but in fact she found it amusing and (dare she say it?) quite cute. Sometimes Ron reminded her of a small child- so cheerful and unconcerned about the consequences of his actions (sometimes Ron reminded her of a small child because he acted like a sulky, temper-tantrum holding toddler, but that wasn't what she was thinking about). Common sense would have told most people that a barrel of junk food wouldn't please the stomach, but it hadn't stopped Ron. It tended to be his attitude to many things- act first, think later. Or, in this case- act first, puke later.

Hermione's nose wrinkled at the distastefulness of her own thoughts. She looked at her watch- 4:30. She would have to get ready for Fliss's party. She didn't particularly want to go- it somewhat spoiled her almost perfect day.

Ron watched Hermione from across the room. She looked _very_ bored. He didn't blame her- parties weren't really either of their scenes, and this party was particularly dull. Fliss's friends, aside from Chas, the twins and co, pretty much divided into two groups- rich, pretty girls with designer miniskirts and bored faces, or large, loud guys called Johnno and Mickey, who spent their time either leering at aforementioned rich pretty snobs, or rugby tackling each other. No-one was speaking to Ron, apart from Chas, Hermione and at one point Jake. He furiously ignored that wanker, though. He was just palling up to him so that he could get closer to Hermione.

Ron looked at Hermione again- she had scrubbed up _very_ nicely indeed. She had beaten the fear of God into her hair, which was placid for the moment, and she was wearing a pair of black trousers and a red top made of weird shimmery material which really suited her. Ron felt slightly scabby in his beaten up old jeans and T-shirt- Hermione looked so glamorous and lovely compared to him. He could see why Jake couldn't keep his eyes off of her; she was easily the most beautiful thing in the room.

Chas had strutted across the room, and was now talking rapidly to Fliss. She had an empty bottle under stuck under her arm. Fliss was nodding back, and then the volume of the music decreased. Chas began to speak, her nasal tones ringing throughout the large room.

"Okay everyone! Time for Spin the Bottle!"

There were a mixtures of cheers and groans from the assorted crowds. Hermione looked as though she was seriously considering making a break for the door. Ron was confused- Spin the Bottle? He stopped a passing girl and asked her how the game was played. She gave him the "What planet are you from?" look that he had grown so accustomed to during his week at Hermione's, before explaining-

"Basically, you sit in a circle, and someone spins the bottle, and whoever the bottle points at, they have to kiss."

Ron raised his eyebrows. Was that all? It didn't sound like a particularly fun game to him. He had a sudden horrible thought- what if someone had to kiss Hermione? The thought of someone else's lips on hers made him want to kick something _very_ hard. It was not a nice thought.

However, it appeared that participation in the game wasn't optional- Chas was guarding the doors and forcefully redirecting anyone who attempted to make strategically timed use of the exits. He sat down next to Vicki, who moved several feet away from him, as though he was infectious. The game started. Ron watched Hermione from the other side of the circle, holding his breath as the bottle approached her, and exhaling as it passed. He was growing so tense that he could feel his pulse as the blood pumped through him. Surely, he thought, even if it does land on her, she'll say no? This is Hermione, after all- she wouldn't stand for this kind of nonsense. She's not that sort of girl. Even with these reassurances, one thought filled his entire mind- _please don't be her… please don't be her… please don't be her…_

It was Jake's turn to spin. He took the bottle and whirled it around so quickly that it was a blur. It began to slow down, slower and slower until it was barely moving. Ron saw it pass Debbie, Louis, Josie… it was almost at Hermione. Just a few more inches, he thought desperately as it trickled past her, just a few more centimetres and it'll be Fliss who kisses him.

But alas, it was not to be. The bottle froze on Hermione, who blushed a furious shade of scarlet. Ron's hands were clenched into tiny fists as Jake lent across the circle to reach Hermione. Why isn't she refusing? Ron thought. Why isn't she telling him no? Maybe she isn't the girl I thought she was. Slowly Hermione tilted her head towards his cheek, but Jake put his arms around her neck and pulled her into a full on, mouth to mouth clinch.

The few seconds of the kiss lasted forever in Ron's mind. He watched in the slow motion of fury as they pulled away from one another, Hermione's face glowing ruby-red with embarrassment. The circle cheered as they sat back in their places. Hermione looked embarrassed, certainly, but there wasn't a glimmer of disgust or anger on her face. Not that it mattered- Ron was feeling enough of those emotions to cover a small city for several months. He couldn't sit there any longer, looking at Jake's smug face and thinking about what he had done… what _they_ had done. No doubt Jake was intending to make their relationship official. Well, Ron didn't intend to be there to see it. He was going…

He excused himself from the game and walked out into the grand hallway of the Dawood's house. He collected his jacket, his mind filled with blank but very angry thoughts. It hadn't fully hit him yet- the girl he loved, _his_ Hermione, liked another guy, and he was supposed to be okay with this, to sit and watch that wanker slobber all over her, without saying a word? It'd be a cold day in hell before that happened…

"Ron!" a voice called from behind him. Ron spun around to see Jake running towards him. "Where you going?"

"I don't feel like staying," Ron replied coolly, desperately trying to restrain the urge to punch his lights out. He didn't suppose that doing that would do anything to lower Jake in Hermione's estimations. All it would mean was that Jake would get to play the wounded hero, and Hermione would spend her time fussing and cooing over him. However, the punching would make him feel better. It was a fine balance.

"Look, mate," Jake said, with an uncomfortable smile, "is there something going on between you and Hermione? Because I really like her, and I sort of got the impression that she liked me too, but if you've already got designs on her I don't want to tread on your toes."

The thought struck Ron in an instant. It was so _simple_. So _obvious_. It would stop Jake from making a move on Hermione, and by the time he found out to the contrary, it would be too late. Ron would have already made his move. One simple, easy lie was all it would take. Jake couldn't date Hermione because-

"She's my girlfriend."


	5. Panic Alert

Chapter 5- Panic Alert

"Oh, god, man, I'm so sorry!" Jake gasped, his hands to his mouth. "No wonder  
you were so pissed off! You should have said something, mate! I… I didn't  
realise… should I apologise to her?"

"No, no!" Ron said, "I'll… I'll sort things out. Really."

"Oh, well… I'm sorry, mate," Jake said sincerely. "You're a lucky guy to have a  
girl like her."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, desperate to get away. "Well, I'll see you later then."

"Bye," Jake waved, as Ron closed the door behind him. He walked back to   
Hermione's house, smiling smugly to himself. That had gone so easily it was   
almost scary. He knew Jake was so embarrassed that he wouldn't as much as come  
within 5 miles of Hermione again, let alone attempt to speak to her. And he   
hadn't had to tell her his feelings in front of everyone. For once in his life,  
things were really going his way. He might even consider being "mates" with  
Jake…

Hermione gazed desolately at the ceiling, hoping that if she wished hard enough  
the entire evening would erase itself from everyone's memory, and that when they  
thought back at the evening, they would recall nothing except a vague, fuzzy   
feeling of well being. They would not, however, remember the game of Spin the   
Bottle. 

She felt horrible. She didn't normally play games like that. The pressure of the  
party had got to her- there had been all those people from her past- they didn't  
know her as she was now. All they remembered was geeky, frizzy-haired Hermione  
Granger, who no one liked and who didn't fit in. The weird kid who read all the  
time and was always around when freaky things happened. She'd reverted to the  
way she was when she was younger- following the crowd, doing things she didn't  
want to do just so that people might like her for who she was, rather than the  
fact that she did their homework for them.

It just wasn't like her. She didn't care what people thought now. She had  
friends like Harry and Ron, and they liked her, not her brain. But she didn't   
know that back then. She didn't know she'd be leaving her "friends" and going  
away. She had only ever wanted to be popular, to change her reputation, so that  
people would like her when she moved to secondary school as opposed to simply  
using her. Her past instincts had come back to her- try and fit in, don't be a  
party-pooper. But her situation was different now. She'd shown herself up, and   
in front of Ron. He wouldn't ever look at her in the same way now. He'd always  
said that he was glad she wasn't a sheep like the other girls. That she stood up  
for herself and didn't do anything she didn't want to, just to look popular. But  
she'd done all of those things that night.

There was no way she'd ever stand a chance with him now. She'd shown herself to  
be everything he didn't like. She'd kissed Jake, simply because she didn't want  
to make a scene. What kind of person did that make her seem? At best, it made  
her look like a crowd follower, at worst, a floozy. Dear god, did he think that  
she wanted Jake to kiss her like that? He had looked disgusted afterwards- had  
he left because he couldn't stand the thought of looking at her? Would she ever  
be able to show her face in front of him again?

"Hermione!" her father called up the stairs. "Phone!"

"I've got it!" she said, picking up the phone from her bedside table with   
absolutely no enthusiasm whatsoever.

"Oh. My. God," a voice said accusingly from the other end. "You sly little minx!  
Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hi Chas. Tell you what?"

"About you and Ron! I mean, it's been two weeks now, and I hadn't noticed a  
thing. Stupid really… I mean, all the clues were there, right in front of me. I  
knew there was something not quite right…"

"Chas, stop. Explain," Hermione said, trying to hide her panic- had Chas somehow  
found out about Hogwarts? Was it possible that… that she had found out, somehow?  
Had Ron perhaps let it slip? Or had Chas simply figured it out?

"Jake told Stuart, who told Fliss, who told me, that Ron told Jake that he was  
going out with you," Chas said triumphantly. "And may I just say, hats off,  
honey. Ron's a good choice. Heck, if you hadn't taken him, I would have!"

"No, Chas, no," Hermione said with a slight smile. "I think some wires must have  
been crossed. Ron and I have never been any more than friends."

"That's not what Jake told me," Chas said in a singsong voice. "I checked with  
him myself. He told me that when Ron was leaving the party, he went after him to  
find out why he was so pissed off and he said that it was because you were his  
girlfriend."

"Chas, I really don't th-"

"Why would I lie, Mi?" Chas began hotly. "It's not like I'd get anything out of  
it. And I don't see why you're being so defensive about it. As I said, Ron's  
hot. It's not like he's anything to be embarrassed about."

Somehow, Hermione believed Chas. She knew how her mind worked- she really   
believed that things were that simple. There's no point in lying unless you're  
getting something out of it. Besides, it just didn't make sense. Why would Jake  
lie and say she was going out with Ron? Surely, if he liked her, it would be in  
his best interests if Ron weren't going out with her. That only left one  
possible source for the lie to have come from left.

Ron.

"Look, Chas, I'll call you back later, alright? I'm kind of busy at the moment.  
So I'll speak to you later? Okay, bye!" She slammed the phone down before Chas  
could even start to protest. She was going to speak to Ron about this, to get  
everything sorted. After all, it was probably just a misunderstanding.

She entered Ron's room to see him lying fully dressed on the bed, reading his  
Potions notes. He smiled cheerfully at her as she peeked round the door.

"Half an hour too late with morning torture today!" he said chirpily. "But don't  
worry, I'll play along, just give me a second…" He laid down his notes and began  
to clamber back under the duvet.

"Ron, I need to ask you something," Hermione said resolutely. "After the party  
last night…"

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Jake that I was your girlfriend?"

"…no," Ron said, in a voice that stated very clearly that he was lying.

"The truth, please, Ron," Hermione said, closing the door behind her and then  
folding her arms across her chest.

"I didn't!" Ron protested, the same look of dishonesty plastered over his  
scarlet-cheeked face. He paused for a few seconds, before adding, "and even if I   
had, why are you so bothered? Do you fancy Jake or something?"

"No."

"Well, then I don't see what the issue is!" Ron said, flinging his arms up  
triumphantly.

"The issue is that you lied, Ron," Hermione said, the volume of her voice  
beginning to rise.

Ron's volume rose to match hers. "I was just getting him off of your back!" He  
stood up from the bed. "I could see he was pestering you, so I just did it to  
scare him off. I don't see what's so wrong with that!"

"He wasn't pestering me!" Hermione yelled. "And even if he was, it is not your  
place to interfere! I could have dealt with it myself, and you know it. Why   
didn't you just leave things be?"

The whole room fell silent. "I don't know." The dishonest look had reappeared.

"Yes, you do," Hermione snapped. "Why?"

"Is this even any of your business?"

Yes, Ron! You meddling in my life is my business! Why didn't you just keep  
out? Whether or not Jake wants to go out with me is of no concern to you!"

Yes it is," Ron said. His voice was quieter now, with a slightly menacing note  
that she had never heard before. "He's not good enough for you, Hermione."

She let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, that is just pathetic," she spat. "So, let me  
ask you- who is good enough for me, Ron? Viktor isn't, Jake isn't, so who is?"

"Look, Hermione, you have to understand," Ron began earnestly, but she cut him  
off.

"Understand what? Ron, I'm not Ginny. It isn't your duty to protect me from all  
the big, bad boys that might hurt me and use me and-"

She was silenced by the feel of Ron's lips on hers as he kissed her   
passionately. Shocked, she instinctively pulled away, before slapping him so  
hard he almost fell down.

"What the hell did you do that for?" she screamed, rubbing her hand, which  
stung from the force of the slap. Ron moved forward to approach her, but she  
shoved him away again. "No, forget it," she said, turning away. "I don't want to  
hear it."

"That's your problem, Hermione," Ron said, sitting down on the bed with a   
violent thud. "You never want to hear it. You just don't listen. The only way to  
shut you up for even a few seconds is to kiss you. It's not like you'd mind,  
after all- you let Jake shove his tongue halfway down your throat, and you don't  
like him."

Hurt and fury boiled in equal doses inside Hermione. So he didn't like her. He'd  
didn't even think she'd care that he tried to kiss her! To him, she was just  
some irritating chatterbox who'd only shut up if he tried to snog her. She had  
lost all of his respect, all of her dignity. Her anger redoubled as she looked  
at the callous smile on his face, completely different to the sweet, kind smile  
that belonged to the Ron she loved, the Ron who didn't think of her in this way.  
She realised that this was all her own fault- she should have just said no when  
they were playing Spin the Bottle. She hated Ron, or at least the person in  
front of her who looked like him. She just couldn't believe that her Ron would  
ever be so cruel.

"I can't bear to look at you," she whispered, turning away from him to face the  
door. "Maybe you should go."

"Maybe I should."

The next morning the sun was shining brilliant light throughout the Granger  
household. Unfortunately, no one saw it. Mr Granger had left for work at the   
crack of dawn- he wasn't one for long lies and hanging about. The earlier he  
awoke, the more work he could cram into his busy schedule. His wife was up early  
too. She was taking Ron to the station. Hermione had come to her as soon as she  
had returned from work and told her that Ron wanted to go home. She had agreed  
to take him to the station, but reluctantly. She didn't particularly want to get  
in the middle of their argument (for she knew enough about her daughter to know  
that when she locked herself in her room all day it could only be because of one  
thing). The only train that went anywhere near where Ron lived left at five   
forty in the morning, and so at ten past five, whilst the sun was barely peeping  
out from behind its curtain of cloud, she helped Ron to load his heavy trunk  
into the back of the car.

The trunk may have been heavy, but to Ron it felt like nothing compared to the  
heavy weight sitting on his chest, squashing his heart to a bloody pulp. Why,  
why, why had he tried to kiss her? There were approximately a million and one  
more appropriate gestures that he could have made at that point. Of course she  
didn't feel the same way. Why on earth would she? If she had liked him she would  
have made a move herself before all this, and then they wouldn't have had this  
argument and maybe they'd both be a little happier, and God only knows that   
that'd never happen. The sole aim of the universe seemed to be to keep everyone  
as downtrodden and miserable as possible.

Of course, the situation could have been salvageable, had it not been for the  
presence of his big, fat mouth. He hadn't meant to say anything so insensitive-  
he was going to kiss her and then tell her how he really felt. But her reaction  
had thrown him into disarray- his brain had started to panic, sending out little  
messages to his mouth saying, "ABORT! BACK AWAY! ABORT THE MISSION!" It had  
hardly been a conscious decision to effectively call her a slut- it was the   
first thing he could think of, the first logical explanation what wasn't the  
truth. What was he going to say, that she had looked so beautiful when she was  
angry that he just couldn't resist kissing her? He didn't even believe it, and  
he knew it was the truth. Of course, he could have just saved himself some time  
in the first place and not lied to Jake. Seemed these days he only opened his  
mouth to change feet.

Hermione's curtains were closed, but she wasn't  
asleep. She just couldn't bear to look out and see Ron. Not now. Not when she  
knew what he thought of her. He didn't love her. She doubted he'd ever loved  
her. And she knew for a fact that he would never love her. It was crystal clear.

With anyone else, an argument like that would have ended it all. She wouldn't  
have been able to forgive them. But all she wanted now was for Ron to forgive  
her, to take her back. She knew it was stupid- she hadn't done anything wrong,  
she wasn't the one who needed forgiving- but for once she wasn't thinking  
logically. All she could think of was Ron, and how things between them might   
have been lost forever. About how she was going to have to go back to Hogwarts  
in a few short weeks, and sit there, knowing what he thought of her and how she  
felt for him, and having to deal with all of these feelings. She wouldn't be  
able to run away, she couldn't avoid them- they were in most of their classes  
together. He was inescapable.

The only thought that had cheered her up before the truth came out was the  
chance that, however slim, Ron might like her back, that things could turn out  
all right. But that dream had been blown out of the water now. It wasn't going  
to happen. She felt so helpless, having these feelings and not being able to get  
rid of them. The only thing she understood now was exactly how she felt for Ron.  
The feeling in her throat, the knot in her stomach, the goose bumps she got  
whenever he accidentally brushed against her. It was love, that was for sure.

And it cut through her like a knife.


	6. Unreal

Chapter 6- Unreal

"… so he was like, 'It's him or me', and I was like 'It is so him', and he just totally freaked out, it was so funny, don't you think, Mi?"

"Huh? Yeah… funny," Hermione said listlessly. She hadn't actually heard a word of Chas's "funny" story- she was too busy focusing on the worry that had constantly hung over her mind for the past few days. Well, it wasn't a worry so much as a blinding panic- what would she say the next time she saw him? Would he even want to speak to her, seeing as she was such a know-it-all chatterbox? Had he told anyone? Would it sort itself out or not? Would she ever get over her…feelings for him? She couldn't bear to think of it as love- it made it seem more permanent somehow, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"So have you heard from Ron yet?" Liz asked, with a slight sneer. Hermione jumped at the sound of his name- could Liz read her thoughts?

"No, no I haven't," she said, trying to hide her blushes. She hated talking about Ron with them.

"Oh, how sad," Vicki smirked. "Is he not feeling better yet?"

"No," Hermione smiled, resisting the urge to punch Vicki square on the nose.

"Funny," Liz continued, with a smirk matching her sister's, "I didn't think that measles could come on so quickly. But I'm sure he'll be better soon."

"Mmmm… he probably won't be coming back, though," Hermione said, improvising wildly. "He's going to visit his grandmother in a few days."

Liz and Vicki exchanged a look that said quite clearly that they didn't believe her. She had stopped caring though. They could judge away all they wanted. She didn't care if the entire neighbourhood knew about her argument with Ron. All she wanted was for Ron to forgive her. She wasn't even hoping that he'd want to go out with her anymore- all she wanted was for things to be back to how theywere before. She'd rather have him as a friend only than as nothing at all. She just didn't want to lose him.

"Look, I'm not feeling too great either," she said, standing up suddenly. "I think I'll call it a day. I'll see you tomorrow, or something."

She left Chas's living room, closing the door behind her, before collecting her jacket and walking the few hundred yards home. She felt totally and utterlymiserable- she didn't know whom to blame. Was it her own fault? Or was Ron to blame? He had lied, after all… but had she over-reacted? He was only looking out for her. She wished she could just go back to when Ron had kissed her… maybe if she had acted differently, things might have been so much better.

She entered her house, dumping her jacket beside the coat stand. No one else was home- both of her parents were still at work. She made herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, trying to hold back the tears of misery that she so constantly felt stinging her eyes these days. She wasn't going to cry again. She was just being stupid. She could live through this- it wasn't such a big deal. She had to get over it and move on. If she kept bursting into tears without the slightest provocation she would be miserable forever.

She walked up the stairs to her bedroom, being careful not to spill her tea. She needn't have bothered. The second she entered her bedroom, she dropped the entire mug in shock.

"Ron?" she whispered, looking at the familiar figure standing awkwardly beside her dressing table. He didn't appear to have noticed her. Perhaps she was hallucinating- definitely not a good sign. Her fears were allayed, however, when he spun around to look at her, a guilty expression on his face.

"Erm… sorry," he muttered, his face turning scarlet. "No one was home, so I just, erm, climbed through the window-" he pointed at her bedroom window, which was indeed half open. "I knocked over one of the ornaments on your desk when I climbed through, though, and it smashed. I've managed to find all of the pieces but one. I'm so sorry- I'll pay for it-"

"Never mind that, what are you doing here?" Hermione said, not noticing the pool of tea that was soaking into the carpet around her.

"I came to… to apologise," Ron said, carefully avoiding her gaze. "It was stupid of me to say those things- I didn't really mean them. I don't actually know what I was thinking, so don't bother asking. Your guess is as good as mine. But H-"

"How on earth did you get down here?" she cut in, shaking her head with a disbelieving smile.

"I took the train down this morning, then I walked to your house. I didn't actually tell Mum, though- she'll have a fit when she finds out," Ron said, smiling slightly. "Anyway-"

"But it's almost twenty miles from the station!"

"Yeah… it took a while," Ron said bashfully. "It seemed a lot shorter when your mum took me in the car…but that's not the p-"

"You are unreal," Hermione said with a smile. "Someone really broke the mould when they made you. So, what were you going to say?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off again.

"I should really mop that tea up- if it stains Mum'll do her nut! I'll be back in a second!" She skipped out of the room, a huge smile on her face.

"I love you," Ron whispered as she closed the door behind her. It was pointless-he obviously wasn't going to get a word in edgeways. It didn't matter, anyway.Hermione was happy, and that was all that mattered to him. All he wanted was to see her smile again. He hadn't been able to sleep before, thinking about what he had said to her. It was tearing him up inside, how cruel he had been to her. All he could see when he closed his eyes was the look of hatred and shame that she had worn when she looked at him. He never wanted to see her look at him in that  
way again. He couldn't live with it. He needed to apologise, as much for his own sake as for hers.

Perhaps it was for the best that he hadn't told her how he really felt. He just hadn't anticipated that she'd be home so early. He hadn't intended to speak to her, anyway. He looked at the letter, hidden behind his back in the palm of his right hand.

_Dear Hermione,  
I'm so sorry for the things I said to you. I didn't mean a word of them.  
Everything I said in that argument was one giant lie. I know you don't just go  
around kissing other guys, and you don't talk too much, and I'm sorry for saying  
such stupid things. In fact, let's just say I'm sorry for every horrible,  
idiotic thing I've done and said to you since I've known you. I'm not sure  
there's enough parchment in the world for me to list and apologise for every one  
of them. _

_I'm sorry, too, for not giving you straight answers to your questions Possibly  
the only thing I said during that argument that was true is that Jake isn't good  
enough for you. No one is. No one on this earth deserves you, Hermione. No one  
could possibly ever understand you and treat you the way you should be treated.  
But I think that of all the people in the world, I'd be the one who tried the  
hardest. _

_I love you, Hermione, and I have for quite some time, even if I haven't always  
shown it in the way I should. And I will always love you, no matter what, even  
if you don't love me back. And I'm sorry if telling you makes you feel  
uncomfortable, but it's true, and I'm not going to lie to you anymore. _

_Make whatever you want of what I've just told you. If you don't feel the same  
way, that's fine. Just let me know and I'll never mention this again, and  
hopefully things'll go back to the way they were before this whole messy ordeal.  
I'm not saying I'll stop loving you, but I'll try not to let it get in the way  
of our friendship. _

_But if you do feel the same, then please tell me, and I'll do everything in my  
power to make sure that you get exactly what you deserve, and I won't let  
anything or anyone hurt you ever again, including myself. _

_Please just let me know, _

_Love Ron_

He scrunched the letter back up, and threw it in the bin beside Hermione's desk. Leaving the letter wasn't a good idea. Things were back to being as near normal as they got in his life. He didn't want to jeopardise things by taking a chance and risking losing her again. Besides, leaving a letter on her desk was such a cowardly thing to do. This was the sort of thing you had to say face to face, and he just wasn't up to doing it. Not yet, anyway.

Hermione entered the room, armed with a bottle of cleaning spray and copiousamounts of kitchen roll. He bent down to help her soak up the stain on the carpet, and as he did so she gave him a smile, the kind that made his heart do little leaps inside his chest. It was the sort of smile that she only smiled when she was genuinely happy. And provided that Hermione was happy, he was happy.

"So, are we friends again?" she grinned, holding out her hand for him to shake. He could risk it, he guessed, but was it worth it? It was all right if she did like him, but if she didn't, he knew in spite of himself that he would panic and say something stupid. And he didn't think their friendship would be so easy to repair the second time around. It was better just to go back a few steps than to risk losing it all.

He took her hand and shook it. "Friends."

There was plenty of time left to be more.

A/N- Okay, here's the deal...originally, this was the final chapter of this fic. However, by popular demand, I ended up writing a brief epilogue, which I shall post in a little bit.

For anyone looking for something else to read, I've just posted a one-shot; it follows up my other fic A New Arrival, but it also works on it's own, and it is effectively a prologue for another fic I'm planning on posting, so go over and read it! Its short and plenty cheery!


	7. Parental Guidance

Epilogue- Parental Guidance

He stacked them all up in front of him- every draft, every copy, even the half  
addressed envelopes. Now that he had decided not to give her the letter, he  
would get rid of them all. It really wasn't safe to keep them- this was exactly  
the sort of thing that would inevitably find its way into Fred and Georges'  
hands if not destroyed. Better to burn them all.

He dropped them into the fire, one by one, at a speed so slow it could be termed  
religious. The scribbled-on, crumpled up first attempts- up in smoke. The three  
drafts, filled to the brim with spelling errors and incorrect punctuation-  
slowly burnt to a smouldering crisp. The empty envelopes- consumed by the fire.  
Finally, his two proper copies, both in envelopes, fully addressed- he had  
originally planned on sending her the letter, rather than delivering it by hand  
and he had been so nervous about having to rewrite the whole thing again if he  
lost one copy that he had written it out twice.

His hand wavered as he held the first of these copies over the flames. Did he  
want to go through with this? There was no getting them back once they were  
burnt. Perhaps he should send it…better late than never, after all… he'd have to  
tell her eventually, anyway. Surely it made more sense to do it through a  
letter, where all of his thoughts would be clearly displayed in an orderly  
fashion, than face to face, where she'd cut in constantly, and he'd end up  
rambling nonsensically. Perhaps he should send it…

He began to lay the letter back down on the table, when he was hit by another  
barrage of thoughts. Was he ready? Was he really, truly ready for what might  
happen if he sent he the letter? There was no guarantee that she'd fell the same  
way, after all. In fact, there was every chance that it might ruin their  
friendship forever…

He began to move back towards the fireplace. He'd tell her. Soon. He just needed  
time to build up a little more courage-

"RON!"

He leapt about a foot in the air, and the letter flew from his hand into the  
crackling flames. He ad been spared from having to make a decision. Tough luck  
if he had wanted to keep it…

"WOULD YOU TELL GINNY TO COME IN AND GET READY FOR BED?"

"YES, MUM!" he yelled back up the stairs. He dashed out of the back door,  
slamming it firmly behind him.

The other copy remained forgotten on the table.

_"I love you," he whispered softly, his hand brushing her hair away from her __  
__face. She smiled back at him, watching his eyes sparkling in the light reflected __  
__by the window from the glittering moon outside. Where she was, she wasn't sure, __  
__but being there like this, with him, was what she had always dreamed of. They __  
__could be anywhere, for all she cared. All that mattered was that he was there, __  
__and he loved her._

_"I love you too, Ron."_

_He was kissing her now, slowly and deeply, his fingers in her hair. After a few __  
__seconds, they broke apart, as he whispered her name again, savouring every __  
__syllable._

"Hermione…"

"HERMIONE!"

"Aieeeeee!" There was a crash as she woke up. She had flung her arms out,  
sweeping her mug of now stone-cold hot chocolate from the desk, where it spilt  
neatly into her waste paper bin.

"Hermione, calm down!" her mother scolded. Hermione had recognised the voice as  
her mother's as soon as she had heard her yell. That's why she'd screamed- she  
hadn't wanted her mother to catch her with Ron.

She looked down into her bin. The mug wasn't broken, but the cold chocolate had  
soaked through everything, turning it all into one big, mushy pulp. She bent  
down to remove the mug, but she was stopped by her mother's hand on her  
shoulder.

"I'll sort that. You get ready for bed- you look like you need a good night's  
sleep."

Hermione looked at her watch and was astonished to see that it was almost  
midnight. She had fallen asleep at her desk whilst attempting to read and not  
think of Ron. She just couldn't get what he had done that day out of her mind.  
There had been something about it which, if she hadn't known any better, she'd  
have called almost… romantic. If only…

She was too tired to ponder the situation further. All she wanted to do was fall  
back to sleep, into the world of simple, lovely dreams, where things weren't  
quite as complicated.

"Morning, dear."

"Morning, Mum. Erm… did you see a letter lying on the table? Addressed to  
Hermione?"

"Oh, yes dear! I sent it off with Pig last night."

"Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"

"Oh, yes. Are you working today?"

"No… I've decided to take the day off. Perhaps we could go into town? Unless, of  
course, you've already got plans with Felicity."

"No- she's leaving for France today to visit her pen pal, Celine."

"Oh, that reminds me, dear! A letter came for you this morning. From Ron, I  
think. I recognise the little owl."

"Oh- thanks…"

"What's he saying? Come on, read it out!"

_"Dear Hermione…"_

A/N- Well, that's it for this fic from me- let me know what you think- but I just thought I'd let you know that I've got a new fic up. It's another Ron and Hermione one, based on the lead-up to their wedding, so go and have a look!


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